I don’t know what it feels like to be a woman. Crazy I know. But the truth is, I really only know what it feels like to be me. And to make matters even more ambiguous, I only...
Tuesday and Thursdays were ballet night. Twice a-week, fifty-two weeks, one hundred and four classes, three hundred and and twelve hours, times two years, I endured the art of...
Ma stood in the driveway waiting for her sister Hazel to come and pick her up to go shopping at Intercity. I sat in the orange plaid swivel rocker and watched her from the living...
Melissa sat in the brown Rubbermaid laundry hamper hugging her knees. She was wearing her over-sized blue sweatshirt with the Dalmatians on the front and purple leggings. Her...
Dear Love, I wanted you to know that my great grandmother’s name was Mary Ann Passingham and she was born on the Isle of Wight. And that some day I’m going to write a romance...
I love sunny days and large blue skies. The brightness and optimism of the unblemished firmament that stretches from horizon to horizon, and takes me back to my Northwestern...
The exquisite thing about aging is the reawakening of wide-eyed wonder. All the oohs and aahs of life seen through my own magical gaze. And not those of my children or...
Hey E Baby I was thinking about that Sunday morning Just after we bought the house It was November and the rain Was pelting on the window All dark and dreary outside So you put...
Write the stories you like to read. Make the music you like to listen to. Paint what you see with your heart not your eyes. Take pictures of the things that delight you. Weave...
The act of authentic writing is like performing open-heart surgery on yourself. Without anesthetic. You slice open your chest, rip apart your flesh, hack into your bones and pull...
